


Price of Going Home - Miraak

by aleski525



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5102924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleski525/pseuds/aleski525
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isolde's showdown with Miraak doesn't go quite according to plan. When the soft hearted Last Dragonborn attacks Hermaus Mora instead of letting him kill Miraak an old favor is inadvertently called in to save both Isolde and Miraak, along with his dragons. Now Isolde has to figure out what to do with an ancient Dragon Priest and 2 half mad dragons in addition to fighting a civil war and taking down Alduin.</p><p>A Dovahkiin's work just never ends does it?</p><p>Warning: slight dubcon at beginning, and LOTS of Dovahzul (Dragon speech) dirty talk translations are at the bottom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Price of Going Home - Miraak

“If you think I’m going to help you then you’re more even more twisted than your compatriots” Isolde spat at the mass of dark green tentacles and sickly yellow eyes that made up Hermaeus Mora. The Daedric Prince merely laughed, loud and sinister while commenting on how little she knew, and disappeared. Isolde felt a shiver run down her spine that had nothing to do with the ice cave she stood in. She clutched the Elder Scroll tightly in her hand and settled her nerves, there was no time to ponder she had work to do.

Thinking back on that moment now, it seemed absurd that she was standing here now, staring at one of Hermaeus Mora’s black books and preparing to enter his realm. The Skaal had begged for her assistance in stopping Miraak from escaping once she had discovered the source of the cult and strange behavior on Solstheim. She had believed for a moment that perhaps Mora was similar to Sanguine, not benevolent but not necessarily malicious either, until he had murdered the Skaal chief. Now Isolde was determined to find a way to defeat both Miraak and his master. She took a deep breath and opened the book.

The trek through Apocrypha was long and tedious. Everything looked the same, and the rustling pages and smells of old books made her want to sleep. When she reached the end of the maze of bookcases and Daedric abominations a dragon rested on a platform. Her hand went to the hilt of her sword instinctively as the dragon opened its eyes. It looked at her with a glazed expression and yawned widely. He then stood on all four feet and beckoned to her to climb onto his back. Hesitantly Isolde climbed up and the dragon took off into the hazy green sky and soared towards the tallest platform in Apocrypha. When the dragon landed and Isolde dismounted she thanked him for giving her a ride, patted him awkwardly and asked him his name. The dragon did not answer, so she repeated herself, louder this time.

“Sahrotaar” a familiar voice behind her said, “His name is Sahrotaar and he does not answer because he is under my control,” Miraak stood before her hands clasped behind his back. He regarded her a moment before speaking again “You’re small for a man. Yet here you are, the last Dragonborn meets the first at the summit of Apocrypha. No doubt just as Hermaeus Mora intended”

She removed the helmet that covered so much of her face and hair and at last revealed her face to him. He was silent, but she could feel his eyes on her, burning through her like fire through his mask.

“You, ko pah lein nii lost wah kos hi ” his voice took on a dark, breathy quality, as though she were someone he’d longed to see. It was then that she realized, for the first time, that it was very likely he’d only ever seen her face one other time, when she’d lost her helm in a fight with a dragon. “This changes nothing,” he replied, his tone regaining a hard edge “Fate has decreed that you must die so that I may be free”

Isolde pulled her twin blades from their sheaths. “I suppose we shall see” she took up a defender’s position. 

It wasn’t by skill, but by luck that she managed to disarm Miraak when the hilts of their swords locked into each other. It had happened in a fight with an Imperial patrol months ago and she had been on the other end. She was lucky to spot the moment a split second before Miraak. The unarmed Dragonborn released a massive unrelenting force shout and Isolde countered it with her own, but it wasn’t strong enough. It sent her flying across the platform and she almost fell off the edge, catching herself at the last moment. She hung there helpless. When he didn’t come to finish her she scrambled to pull herself up. What she saw filled her with rage; Mora was holding Miraak aloft, prepared to spear him like he had the Skaal chief. She wouldn’t let it happen again, no matter who it was. She started running, grabbing one of her swords off the ground and ran towards the two. 

“Ah yes” Mora said, “Look at her Miraak. So eager to take your place” he lowered Miraak so she could run him through easier “Another Dragonborn, a new champion a new,” the Daedric prince cut himself off with an agonized howl of pain and dropped Miraak on the floor as Isolde sliced through his tentacle. Isolde took her position between Miraak and Hermaeus Mora “You dare attack me in my realm?” The Daedric prince was outraged and raised himself up, stretching out and making himself massive. “I offered you eternal life and boundless knowledge. Now you will both die in agony!”

A strange wind whipped up then, and a new light began to shine in Apocrypha. Isolde turned to Miraak and shouted over the now howling wind “Call your dragons!” Miraak rose to his feet and shouted for Sahrotaar and Relonikiv and as soon as they landed she grabbed a single horn on each of them “Grab on to me and whatever you do, don’t let go!” Miraak hesitated, the light flared to blinding white and he grasped her in his arms and held on. 

The four of them reappeared outside the shrine of Meridia. Whose voice echoed for them to hear “You made foolish choice light barer, wandering into Hermaeus Mora’s lair. My debt to you is now paid in full. See that you do not stray into Apocrypha again, for the wrath of Hermaeus Mora is great, and he will consume you if you step foot in there again.” Meridia’s voice faded and all was silent but for the wind rustling the snow laden pines.

Isolde took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the cold, clean mountain air and looked out over the landscape. She knew exactly where they were. Turning to Miraak she said, “Welcome to Skyrim”.

Miraak and Isolde were bunked down in the entry to the temple beneath Meridia’s shrine while Sahrotaar and Relonikiv kept watch outside. Miraak watched Isolde intently as she rummaged through a chest at the far end of the room. He stood by his earlier assessment; she was small for a Nord. Smaller still for one who sought to defeat Alduin. He heard her cry out triumphantly and walked back back to him, her arms full of what looked to be armor and clothes. 

“I knew Ralof and I had left some things here! Try these on, see if they’ll fit you.” She offered him a light set of armor. Chainmail covered by a brown cuirass and a heavy blue cloak with a golden bear’s head emblazoned on the back. Fur boots and gloves matched the set well and he stared at her without moving to accept the pile. “Seriously? You want to stay in Hermaeus Mora’s clothes that you been in for a four thousand something years? Take them.” She shook the pile again.

“I’d like to inquire what happened to their previous owner.” He said, unable to hide the incredulous tone in his voice.

“He isn’t dead if that’s what you’re worried about. He’s a soldier in the Stormcloak Army, like I am. Technically this is one of our uniforms; we can wash what you’re wearing now once we get off the mountain. Then you can wear that dusty old thing until we get into friendly territory. But you’ll freeze to death if you just wear that down the mountain, you need fur gear.”

Miraak reached to take the pile from her “We aren’t in friendly territory?”

“Far from it. This is Mount Kilkreath; on a clear day you can see Solitude, the capital of Haafinger. We’re about as deep in enemy territory as we can get; spitting distance from the Thalmor embassy, a stone’s throw from the Imperial headquarters in Skyrim. Glad as I am to be out of Apocrypha, this is as close to the worst place to be as Solitude itself.”

“You are Dragonborn” Miraak said from behind her as she stooped to collect some of the firewood leftover from bandits and her last visit here. “What have you to fear from them?”

Isolde laughed as she dumped an armful of wood into the fire ring. “How about beheading? That’s how I met Ralof, joined the Stormcloaks, hell it is where I first laid eyes on Alduin” she sat back on her heels and brushed the dirt off her hands before looking up at him. “Are you going to change or not?” It took a moment of silence before it dawned on her that he might want privacy while he changed. “I think there are a couple bed rolls in the next chamber, I’m going to see if I can find them,” she stated awkwardly, getting up and heading off. When she returned, bedrolls in hand he’d donned the undershirt and pants, but not the armor itself. Isolde couldn’t help admiring the way he filled it out completely, yet still he wore his mask. “Do you have a face under that mask?”

“Of course I have a face!” he snapped humorlessly snatching the bedroll she offered him.

“Why don’t you take it off?” She asked.

“Why do you care if I wear this mask or not?” Miraak retorted, voice still harsh.

“Right now I couldn’t care less. But it makes you conspicuous, add that to wearing Stormcloak armor in Imperial territory and you’ll be a beacon for trouble.” Isolde tried to shake off his tone, but she was annoyed. She laid out her bedroll and sat on it.

There was a long silence between them in which Isolde took to staring into the fire they’d started, mulling over the last few days. The Skaal would be furious if they ever found out that Miraak was still alive. She let her thoughts travel to other things. The dragons outside and the story of Numinex; how he’d gone mad from being imprisoned. Had the two dragons gone mad under the will of Miraak? She wondered if Paarthurnax could help them. The sound of metal clicking on stone interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see Miraak, bare faced, staring at her.

“Why did you stop Mora?” He asked suddenly.

“I beg your pardon?” Isolde stuttered. His gaze was intense; his eyes, pitch black from Daedric influence, were piercing. 

“I was going to kill you. He was going to kill me. He offered me to you as an easy kill, and you attacked not me, but him. I want to know why.” 

Isolde’s answer came before she could think it through “Because people aren’t toys. They aren’t puppets and they aren’t disposable.” He narrowed his eyes but did not comment, rather turned his gaze back to the fire. Miraak did not speak again for some time, and when he did his question was stranger than the last.

“This Ralof you mentioned. Is he your lover?” he had that piercing stare again. Isolde had since stretched out on her bedroll and had to crane her neck up to look at him.

“No” she responded. Looking at him was uncomfortable so she went back to her regular position lying down. “We’re soldiers. When you’re knee deep in blood, back to back with other men and women they become closer than family. We travel together when we can, but we each have our own paths to walk. Mine is long and full of fear and danger that I cannot pull others into.” she said to the ceiling. A pang of loneliness hit her. The same loneliness that took her and slowly tore her apart when the weather was too fierce for her to travel and she had to hide alone in her tiny tent. Her path was a hard one, sometimes her friends were able to follow, and many times they could not. In those dark and cold nights there was a loneliness that made her long for somebody, anybody, to be near her while she shivered and pulled her feet closer. She could feel the burning of tears begin to form in her eyes and rolled over so he wouldn’t see her weakness. “I’m going to sleep. Put another log or two on the fire before you turn in.”

“Has the power of the Dovahkiin truly waned so much?” Miraak asked, disregarding her attempt. “Once we walked as kings upon this world, all the power of the Dovah at our hands. Now lie there an tell me that you wander alone, that you fear the world around you, you who should be a conqueror and subdue it!”

Isolde got to her feet and stood before him, her angry eyes meeting his challenging ones. “Yes! Yes I fear the world around me, it’s filled with trolls, vampires, dragons, war, hatred and religious sects that haul entire families off in the middle of the night to torture and murder them. This world is full of horrible shit and I’ve seen a whole lot of it, and I’m going to see a whole lot more before I’m dead and done.” She had moved closer to him, “You wanted out of Apocrypha, well here you go. This is the world as it is now, if you want to walk out there and call yourself king of the hill by right of being Dragonborn be my guest. Have a great time for the last week of your life because about a thousand people will line up to have you murdered the moment you step up to claim any of the “rights” of the Dragonborn.” She was breathing heavily, fighting tears. She still remembered her journey here to Skyrim, how full of hope she’d been at starting a new, peaceful life. “Living in fear? Wandering this place alone while trying to dodge dragons? Hoping this war doesn’t kill you? It’s the price of coming home.”

Miraak stood silently and had to bend his neck drastically to keep eye contact with her. He towered over her. She actually felt dizzy looking up at him. “You have the soul of the Dov, yet you fear these mortal men. You do yourself a disservice.” His hand came up to rest on her cheek “You can be more powerful than you know. You can bend the world to your will. I can show you how.”

Isolde wanted her voice to be strong, like a shout; instead it came out a breathless whisper “I don’t want power. I want peace, an end to this war. I don’t want to chase and kill dragons.”

Miraak stayed silent. He remembered the one time he’d seen her before. She was with a man whom he had assumed was the Dragonborn when he stolen the dragon soul from them. All the other times she’d had her head covered in a helm that hid her head and face. He’d fantasized about that woman after that, she’d been the first he’d seen in so long. Golden hair wild in the wind, pale skin teased pink from the fight. Chest heaving from exertion, bright green eyes flashing in the setting sun; she was a true Nord through and through. And he’d brought himself pleasure to the thought of her many times since. As though she could see his thoughts she began to back away from him. He followed her, like a predator stalking prey, until her back was against a column and he was pressed against her body.

“Thousands of years I’ve been imprisoned alone” He tilted her chin up, enjoying the pink flush on her cheeks and the fear in her eyes as they darted to her swords back by the fire. “And you seem know something of being alone” he slid his free hand down until it found the small dip of her spine and hauled her against his solid frame. She pressed her hands against his shoulders and pushed hard, trying to put distance between them, he merely tightened his grip, lifted her off her feet and hauled her over to his bedroll where he forced her to the ground. He straddled her legs and pinned her arms above her head with a single hand when she continued to struggle. His free hand slid beneath her tunic. “Dreh ni krif zey, it is a vain attempt you put up, zu'u fen lost hi.” His voice was a low controlled growl.

Isolde shuddered involuntarily as his cool hand brushed from her side across the sensitive skin of her stomach Miraak let out a dark chuckle. “Even as your mind fights, your body begs.” 

“You’re out of your mind” she finally managed to gasp as he repeated the gesture “just a few hours ago you intended to spear me with your sword!”

Miraak grinned wickedly at her “Believe me, I still intend to.” Isolde’s eyes grew wide and her cheeks turned scarlet as she recognized his meaning. Miraak released her wrists and sat up, his quarry too stunned to fight. With both hands he swiftly grasped the hem of her tunic and ripped it up over her head. He was greeted with a sight that disturbed him. Bandages were wrapped tightly around her upper chest, crushing her breasts flat to her chest. He glared at the wrappings and looked her face. She turned away from his gaze. “Are you injured?” he asked.

“No” she responded, her voice betrayed her embarrassment.

“Then why are your breasts bound so?” Miraak inquired, his normally assured, ever knowing voice betraying genuine confusion. She mumbled some kind of reply. He leaned closer, his face inches from hers “I didn’t hear you.” His voice regained its smooth tone.

“It makes armor fit better” she whispered.

Miraak stared at her fiercely bound chest a moment more before reaching over her head to pull her dagger from the affects she’d provided him. Without warning he slit the bindings and peeled them away. Isolde hissed in pain as they pulled away from the deep lines left in her skin. Miraak’s face was impassive as he stared at the brutal lines crisscrossing her revealed breasts. They ranged in color from angry red to cruel purple, accompanied by mottled bruises from where the armor had failed to protect her. He could understand the need to bind them tightly, they were not obscenely large, but large enough to make standard armor uncomfortable and difficult to wear effectively. Still the sight of her abused chest filled him with protective anger, but he suppressed it and set to soothing her body instead. 

He bent his head and began to gently lick and caress her abused flesh. Her initial gasp of shock quickly turned into small moans of mixed pleasure and relief. The warmth of his mouth against the painful indents across her sensitive flesh was enough to make her arch into him. His hands, soft from years of wearing gloves and working with his mind rather than hands, were just as soothing as they caressed the spots his mouth did not. “Hin kopraan los brit, it does not deserve such treatment” he purred as his hands cupped her breasts.

“You know,” she whispered, her voice suppressed by the intense sensations coursing through her “I don’t know the dragon language. Not beyond shouts”

“Dovahzul" he corrected "I am aware” Miraak said catching and holding her gaze as her lowered his mouth to one of her nipples and gave it a long, exaggerated lick. “if you did, my words would make you blush like a maid. Zu'u fen piraan hi, kopraan ahrk sil.” He took her other breast in her mouth and swirled his tongue around her hardened nipple until she whimpered before continuing to speak “Pah lein fen koraav hi los dii. Zu'u fen gejahrii hi voth smoliin ahrk gral hi fah pah vorey. Zu'u fen kos nunon jul wah drun hi genazend. Hi los dii ahrk hi fen neh filok zey. ” the words fell from his lips like liquid velvet. They soaked into her very soul and while their translation eluded her, she could feel the meaning. She swallowed hard, suddenly afraid of the predatory look he had regained. She tried to scoot back but in a flash his hands were on her shoulders dragging her back down to the bedroll. “I will not hurt you Dovahdiin” he whispered the words hotly in her ear “not until you beg me to.” He kissed the skin behind her ear, down her neck to the round of her shoulder and across her collarbone. He shifted to part her legs with one of his knees while he ghosted his hands across her still sensitive breasts, across her waist and down to her hips where he hooked his thumbs into her breeches and pulled the loose garment down until her small clothes were accessible. 

The thought that she should stop him as he returned to lay atop her, placing hot kisses along her neck and caressing a breast with the other, occurred to her briefly and was driven away entirely when she felt his hand, now warm for their interactions, cup the wet mound between her thighs. “Yes” He hissed in her ear “feel how wet you are, see how your body hungers for me?” he ran a long, skillful finger along her soaked slit and circled her clit slowly. Her hips bucked against him and she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a loud moan. Miraak hummed against her neck and pulled her hand from her mouth. “Dreh ni stiildus hin zul, let me hear you when I bring you pleasure.” He stroked her again and still she resisted the sounds that welled up in her throat. Miraak smirked, taking pleasure in her iron will; it would have been uninteresting if she had simply given in to him. He bit down on the juncture of her neck at the same time he thrust one of his long fingers inside of her and she couldn’t hold back the cry of pleasure-laced pain that washed over her. 

She’d been with a man before but never like this, it had been quick, quiet and empty. She had lost her virginity to a Stormcloak soldier on the eve of a fight that she’d barely survived. He hadn’t been so lucky. But this was something different all together she realized as her hips lifted to meet another thrust, this time he slipped two fingers into her tightness and she clutched at his shirt while she cried out wordless pleasure. He continued the torturously slow thrusts a few more times before curling his fingers deep within her and the cavern was filled with her echoing scream of pleasure as she came with shattering force, coating his fingers with her wetness. She shook as he raised himself up to admire his handiwork. She lay there; her face flushed prettily from her cheeks down her neck to the top of her breasts. Her breeches had worked their way down to her calves leaving her exposed to him. 

Her eyes opened suddenly and she attempted to sit up when she felt him removing her boots “What are you doing?” her voice still shook from her orgasm. 

“Removing the rest of your clothes. I’m not done with you yet and they are in my way.” His voice was so matter of fact and so reasonable that Isolde complied without thinking. He was just pulling her last sock off when she sat bolt upright, Miraak’s position between her ankles and her breeches location on her calves forcing her thighs wide apart.

“What do you mean you’re not done with me?” She’d meant for her voice to sound commanding, instead it just sounded hoarse from lack of use.

Miraak grinned devilishly, and lifted her legs by grabbing a hold of her pants with one hand. The sudden movement dropped Isolde to her back again and once her feet were clear of the offending piece of clothing he seized her ankles, one in each hand. Even though he was still kneeling he towered over her, her feet just barely brushing his shoulders as she looked up at him, shock written on her face. “Zu'u fen ken hi” his voice had that molten velvet quality again as his slid his hands down her legs “Zu'u fen koviriis hi” his hands slid beneath her hips “Zu'u fen du hi. ” Before she could comprehend his plan or protest, he lifted her by her hips and dragged her soaked pussy to his mouth. Isolde gasped and her hands scrabbled to find something to hold, but he was too tall. Her thighs hung over his shoulders now, his arms holding her hips tightly to his mouth and she was left dangling, the tops of her shoulders barely brushing the furs beneath them. She felt the heady sensation of the blood rushing to her head and moaned wantonly as his tongue assaulted her sensitive folds, flicking across her nub every now and again when he desired to hear her cries increase in pitch. When he needed air he would pull back and bite down on her thighs, just the wrong side of too hard and make her cry out in pain, then sooth them with soft warm kisses before returning to his glorious assault on her core. She could feel the knot of pleasure forming in her, felt her muscles contract preparing to burst again, just before she was about to come undone he pulled away at the last minute eliciting an anguished cry from her. “Ni erei Zu'u unad, you will have fulfillment when I allow it. You fall into ecstasy only when I throw you into it.” 

He continued the torturous cycle until she was sobbing beneath him. “Dreh hi laan gaar? Do you need what only I can give?” his voice was a wicked purr against her agonizingly sensitive flesh.

“Yes!” She practically screamed the word.

“Then beg me for it.” His tone hardened like quenched steel “beg me for release from your torment, any way I see fit.”

Isolde was lost; blinded to everything by the strangling knot of pleasure locked in her body. “Please” she sobbed, “Please, anyway you will,”

“Ol hi hind, ful Zu'u fent dreh“ He let her hips down and shushed her pained moan. He stood and stripped off the clothes he wore before laying atop her again. She shivered at the sudden contact of her breasts against his chest. Instinctively her legs came up to accept his hips more comfortably. Miraak’s hot, hard length pressed deliciously against her belly and he whispered in her ear, his voice harsh with desire “Fun zey , again, tell me again you want me.”

“I want you” Isolde pleaded, “I need this, more than I have ever needed anything”

Her words undid all his carefully constructed self-control. He pulled his hips back and slid into her with a slid smooth, powerful thrust. The sudden fullness was enough to bring her to a screaming release as he buried himself to the hilt inside her. He watched with satisfied ecstasy as her jaw slackened, her eyes shut and her tight, wet cunt clenched and pulsed around him. He reveled in the feel of how her back and hips struggle under his weight to arch up as she rode out the final vestiges of her climax. Her breathing had just begun to even out when he began to move again. His thrusts were slow at first, finding a rhythm she could keep up with, then she made the mistake of letting out a breathless plea of “faster” and he was completely undone. He gripped her hips, hard enough to leave bruises and slammed into her hard and fast, her screams and his grunts of pleasure sounded off the walls until he finally let out a roar, slamming hard into her as he came, her walls clamping around him as a scant second later her body shattered beneath him again.

They lay there for long moments trying to catch their breath. Isolde stared at the ceiling for long moments before shifting her gaze to Miraak. His face was buried in the crook of her neck and obscured from her sight. He stirred when he felt her shift under him, raising himself up and gaining his feet. Without a word he walked to his bedroll on the opposite side of the fire. Isolde clenched her jaw and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes feeling like the biggest fool in all of Tamriel. She’d just been fucked by a man who mere hours ago was hell bent on killing her. She was just about to reach down and slide under the fold of her furs when he reappeared, his roll undone to form a blanket. He bent down and pulled her to her feet silently before laying it on the ground and reaching for hers. He opened her sleeping furs as well motioned for her to lie down. Isolde’s eyes darted to their clothes, scattered about ground and she reached for her shirt. He grasped her arm and pulled her back against him. Wordlessly he pulled her down into the furs with him and wrapped his arms around her like a vice. She tried once in the night to pull away, but he yanked her back against his solid frame, there was no escaping him.

**Author's Note:**

> ko pah lein nii lost wah kos hi = in all the world it has to be you
> 
> Dreh ni krif zey . . . zu'u fen lost hi = Do not fight me . . . I will have you.
> 
> Hin kopraan los brit = Your body is beautiful
> 
> Zu'u fen piraan hi, kopraan ahrk sil = I will claim you, body and soul.
> 
> Pah lein fen koraav hi los dii. = All the world will see you are mine.
> 
> Zu'u fen gejahrii hi voth smoliin ahrk gral hi fah pah vorey. = I will fill you with passion and ruin you for all others.
> 
> Zu'u fen kos nunon jul wah drun hi genazend. = I will be the only man to bring you pleasure.
> 
> Hi los dii ahrk hi fen neh filok zey. = You are mine and you will never escape me
> 
> Dreh ni stiildus hin zul = Do not quiet your voice
> 
> Zu'u fen ken hi . . . Zu'u fen koviriis hi . . . Zu'u fen du hi. = I will taste you . . . I will savor you . . . I will devour you
> 
> Ni erei Zu'u unad = Not until I choose
> 
> Dreh hi laan gaar = Do you want release? (lit. do you want [to be] unleash[ed])
> 
> Ol hi hind, ful Zu'u fent dreh = As you wish, so shall I do
> 
> Fun zey = Tell me


End file.
